


Ugly, Naked, and True for You

by TK_Hoshikuzu



Series: Damien x Oscar (The Halloween Couple) [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Child Neglect, Cutting, Fluff and Angst, Genetically Engineered Beings, Harm to Children, I admit Oscar is a woobie, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mad Science, Men Crying, Modern Era, Oral Sex, Original Slash, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Secret Identity, Slice of Life, Way Mushier Than Previous Story, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 15:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_Hoshikuzu/pseuds/TK_Hoshikuzu
Summary: Damien has ruined his romantic getaway with his boyfriend, who won't speak to him now. If he doesn't want to ruin their relationship too, he has to prove to Oscar how serious he is, even revealing his secrets about what he is.[Sequel to "The Height at Five Nights"]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of [The Height at Five Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483745/chapters/38603291) from Damien's POV. Sex scenes are marked in chapters!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time with Damien and Oscar...

His clunker of a car rumbled as Damien slowed down for traffic. He took the time to glance over again at Oscar, who was sleeping in the passenger seat, head drooped weakly against the car door. The highway lights, which had been turned on for the oncoming dusk, illuminated the dark circles under Oscar’s eyes and the dried cuts and small bruises that colored his face. Damien felt awful about what Oscar had gone through because it was his fault.

Even though Oscar had rested while Damien packed up their camping gear, he had to suffer through the nearly two-hour trek from the campground back to the car. As feisty as Oscar could be, he couldn’t keep his spirits up while his body was weak and wounded. Damien held his hand and tried to help when he could, but he was carrying bags for two people. Oscar had to concentrate on getting down the mountain without more injuries, so he hardly spoke, or so Damien told himself.

When Oscar found out that Damien might not be exactly human, Damien thought he had taken it as well as Damien could have hoped for, but Oscar did not answer his question: whether Oscar was going to break up with him. In fact, he spoke less the longer he hobbled down the trail. Damien felt helpless watching Oscar bite his bottom lip in pain as he edged down another steep boulder or trip over another low branch. Damien always rushed to catch him, but whenever he did, he could see Oscar tearing up with quiet frustration. Their slow pace added another hour to the trek, and when they reached Damien’s car, Oscar collapsed into the front seat with a relieved groan.

When Damien offered him water, Oscar took it with a look that spoke more than Oscar had in the past few hours. It shook Damien to the core. He had messed up badly. He hurried to the driver’s seat, started the car, and merged onto the road as if driving faster would save their relationship. Damien timidly glanced at Oscar, who had passed out at once.

The ride back to the city was completely silent and full of Damien’s sorry glances at Oscar, who stayed asleep. Now that they were stuck in traffic, Damien could watch the rise and fall of Oscar’s chest, could hear the sound of his small, ragged breath rattle in his ribcage. Damien’s cheek had been wounded too, but it was already beginning to recover. He could tell by the unbearable itchiness that came with superhuman healing, but it was nothing compared to what Oscar went through. He banged his head against the steering wheel. How could he have put Oscar through this? Oscar was so fragile as it was, which made Damien an idiot and an asshole.

The way that Damien imagined it was that Oscar would stay put while Damien turned into his other form. While planning for and during their camping trip, Damien had been weaving an elaborate excuse that would explain why he had to leave the campsite for a while. Oscar would be furious with him, but Damien was sure they'd survive the fallout, even if it meant on hands and knees Damien had to beg Oscar to stay. But all of that flew out of the window when Damien nearly lost his reason on the day before his transformation.

Since Damien always camped alone, he had no idea that Oscar’s presence could affect him so much. Sure, he was hornier before he turned, but he was in control. Maybe it was the newness of having a companion that excited his other side. Even so, assuming everything went to Damien’s plan, would it have worked? 

Oscar had already been suspicious of him. Damien didn’t blame him due to bad experiences in the past; Oscar’s previous boyfriend had cheated on him, after all. He knew he had taken a serious gamble by disappearing without a word, but Damien didn’t expect Oscar to leave the campsite to find him, since he was helpless in the wilderness. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of a worried, frightened Oscar braving a black forest alone, stumbling and calling for him, only to receive silence. He banged his head again. He’d really, really messed up.

Damien had accepted that he’d probably receive tongue-lashings for abandoning Oscar, as long as he didn’t have to reveal his secret. When he turned back into his human self though, he had realized that he had no choice. For all his meticulous planning, Damien had lost control of the situation. Now he could only stare ahead and wait nervously for Oscar to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@starbasefive), my usual haunt and best place to reach me. :) Hope you enjoy!


	2. Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien messed up worse than he thought.

Despite the usual check-in texts from Damien, he hadn’t heard from Oscar in several days. Every “_hey what’s up_?” text was lined up with others like it, a long one-sided conversation that looked increasingly stalkerish. Damien was growing nervous, but looking back when he dropped Oscar off at his apartment, he wasn’t so surprised. 

When they had pulled up to the parking lot, Damien only had to murmur his name before Oscar opened his eyes. Without a word, Oscar unbuckled his car seat and opened the door, though when he tried to swing his legs out, his face winced instead. The frustrated look in Oscar’s eyes -- he probably underestimated how weak his body was -- spurred Damien to offer his help, but without looking at him, without a word Oscar hoisted himself out and grabbed his backpack through the open backseat window. 

As Damien watched Oscar slam the car door and trudge into his apartment building, he felt lost. Guilt was a strange territory for him, and that night had been gnawing at him since. Approaching it rationally was no use. Oscar’s nosiness had gotten him in trouble, and he deserved to face the consequences, but Oscar couldn’t have imagined what Damien was hiding. He certainly didn’t deserve to be terrorized because he wanted an honest relationship.

Damien acknowledged it was his own fault. Before they got more involved, Damien should have broken off the relationship. Given his abnormal qualities, he should have known better than to want a normal life, but the TV shows and movies and seductive commercials encouraged him to hope for that happily ever after. Damien hadn’t realized how much he had bought into the idea, until he met a vivacious, love-starved, kind-hearted boy, holding as many scars as he did.

So intoxicating, the way Oscar looked at him, like they had a future. More amazing was that Oscar was grateful for Damien. Even though Damien took advantage of Oscar’s insecurity, who had ever been thankful that Damien existed? Not as a successful product, but as a person? Finally, something that was as satisfying as Hollywood promised, something that made Damien dive face-first into the fantasy of a normal, human life.

The bitter thought that Damien might have ruined it urged him to pick up his phone and call Oscar. Listening to the ringtone, Damien still had no clue how to resolve this, how he could -- as the idiom went -- have his cake and eat it too. For now he just wanted to hear Oscar’s voice. 

After several rings, a hesitant voice spoke, “Hey.” 

“Oscar,” Damien said, relief flowing like a held breath. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he replied.

“Oh.” Damien paused, then continued, though he felt uneasy, “Are you in the hospital? Can I come see you?”

Oscar paused too, clinching the awkwardness between them. “No, I’m not in the hospital. I’m fine,” he said tensely. “I don’t think…” He trailed off into heavy silence. 

Eager to fill the void, Damien asked, “Oscar, can we do this in person?” With a nervous chuckle he added, “I remember you hate talking on the phone.”

“No one likes talking on the phone,” Oscar said, a little sharply.

“You’re mad,” Damien said, beginning to sense that something was causing the abrupt starts and stops in their conversation.

“I’m a little mad, yeah,” Oscar said. “I had to take a few days off work because how was I supposed to explain why I looked tore up? I work at a woman’s shelter, for Christ’s sake, Damien. I can’t say it was just an accident, because it doesn’t look like a fucking accident.”

His angry outburst was comforting, because it sounded familiar, unlike the short, choppy answers or the silence. It also explained why Oscar was so distant, something Damien would have to keep in mind later. Oscar hated his scars and was probably furious that he had gotten more.

“I’m sorry,” Damien said. “I’m really sorry, Oscar. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. We can --”

“Damien, I’ve been thinking,” Oscar interrupted, blurting the words in rapid-fire succession. Then he paused again, while Damien froze at the sudden turn of events. He instantly recognized this scenario from soap operas. 

“You know,” Oscar continued quietly, “I don’t know how to begin processing.” Pause. “I’ve really been thinking.” Horrible pause. “Maybe...” Pause, but with a deep breath. “We shouldn’t try to do a relationship.”

A tight, heavy bundle of emotion punched him in the gut. He opened his mouth, but that knot jumped up to his throat. “I’m sorry about lying,” Damien said, the words squeezing themselves through the hard lump. “Really sorry about everything.”

Damien could hear the weariness in Oscar’s voice. “If anything,” he began, “it’s both our faults. It must have been hard for you, Damien, and I’m sorry too. I was way too nosy and pushy and ruined another relationship, but I don’t know how to handle all of this. I don’t know that a romantic relationship is the way to deal with this. I know I’m being an asshole, leading you on this whole time, but it’s--” He paused, and swallowed as he clinched, “it’s better if we break up.”

The straightforward words offered no room for interpretation. Their finality rubbed salt into the wound that Damien deserved. Even so, he stared downward in a daze and let himself be distracted by the lines of the old wood floors in his older apartment. Through the numbness, Damien realized that Oscar hadn’t stopped talking by the way his tone grew gentler.

“-- doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. I can be there if you want.” Oscar said, lingering as if there was more to say. Actually Damien waited for more until the silence told him otherwise.

“I would really like that,” Damien said, unsure of what Oscar was thinking, but would gladly jump at the chance to see him again. “I meant what I said before. You don’t have to do this. It was my choice to trust you. You know, the trip was meant to ease you into it. I had meant for you to know eventually.”

“Like when?” Oscar asked heatedly, then shut his mouth to take a deep breath. Oscar was right to be annoyed, Damien thought. He couldn’t be expected to wait for Damien to be ready, while he wasn’t sure if he could trust Damien. Then again, Damien never told Oscar that he hoped that they’d be together for a long time.

“Let me tell you in person,” Damien said. “No more waiting.”

Another long pause meant that Oscar had a lot on his mind. “I might be free next week,” he said, voice sounding strained. 

That stung since Oscar seemed to have all the time for him before. “Yeah, any time,” Damien replied. “Let me know. I’ll make time.”

“Okay, I’ll text you,” Oscar said, but added as a reminder, “But just as friends.”

“Yeah,” Damien agreed, a lump in his throat tightening. “As friends.” 

**Five Years Old**

_One day he noticed a small hole in one of the stuffed animals, a sheep. Out of boredom he kept poking his finger into it to see what was inside, working it until the hole was so big that doll could no longer hold the fluff. Fascinated he pulled the stuffing out and wondered at how far he could stretch it. As he sat in a pile of white softness, he wondered at how much could fit in such a small thing._

_He turned at the sound of the door opening and brisk steps coming toward him. A figure that was much taller than him, wearing white like the sheep’s guts, the walls, the bed, and his clothes, snatched his wrist back. _

_“No!” the figure scolded, shaking his wrist until he let go. The figure gathered the disemboweled sheep and stomped back outside, where he could hear the unpleasant, sad sounds of other people, but never see them. He sighed and looked around his room for other distractions. They kept giving him new things and taking them away when he opened them or tore them into little pieces and scattered them around the room that he was not allowed to leave._

_They scolded him constantly for making a mess, until they finally gave him boxes so that he could clean up after himself. He had no reason to do so, however, since nothing he did seemed to satisfy them. They never smiled at him and brushed off his questions. When they spoke to him, it was as though they were looking through him, as if someone else was hiding inside him._

_The most fun to be had was annoying them because it was the only time he got a warm-blooded reaction, when they looked at him. But whenever he succeeded -- for example, when he sat too close to the door to listen to the outside noises -- and they angrily asked him to explain his behavior, he didn’t know the answer. Fear squeezing his stomach, he clamped his mouth shut and didn’t know how to explain that he was unbearably lonely, sad, bored. He just felt bad._

_There were only two of them, a man and a woman that looked very different from the man and woman from his picture book. The ones from his book smiled and wore bright colors, while the figures he knew looked so unpleasant. He didn’t particularly like them, but they were all he had. _

_They brought him food, made sure he was healthy, and taught him letters and numbers. They never praised him, and they hated when he made faces or noises when they poked him with sharp things, so he stayed quiet and listened to them talk about him._

_“In every visible way he is a normal boy,” the man said with disappointment, as if it were the boy’s fault. “Are you sure you’re running the tests correctly?”_

_“Yes,” the woman insisted. “His DNA tests show definite markers that he’s not completely human.” _

_“None of the other subjects have been viable outside the womb,” he said. An uncomfortable silence followed and the boy’s head swiveled between the two of them, the man looking annoyed and the woman looking upset. “How could this one be so stable?”_

_“The changes could manifest as he grows.” the woman said. "There's no telling what will happen to him. That fact that nothing has happened is remarkable in itself."_

_The man frowned. “I know that, but we can't even guess unless we do more tests,” he said. The boy stared at him. Instead of glancing down at him as the man usually did, he ignored the boy. He did adjust his glasses though, signaling that he knew the boy was staring. “Healing factor, physical prowess, temperament, we should be looking at these closely.”_

_“If they even exist. Doctor, he’s scarcely five,” the woman said with an uneasy tone that made the boy’s stomach heavy. “Don’t go overboard on such a young body. Plus, this is uncharted territory. If he is what the DNA tests say he is, he’s a statistical miracle.”_

_"The fact that we've arrived this far is a miracle, Nicola. If we were to lose him, we'd still get a wealth of information from the remains and we can always try again," the man replied. "If he's the miracle, we're the makers."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@starbasefive), my usual haunt and best place to reach me. :) Hope you enjoy!


	3. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets begin to reveal.

When Oscar told Damien when he was free to meet tomorrow, it was late at night. The message came so late that Damien had to cancel a moving job, which was a significant hit to his wallet. Those jobs gave a nice lump sum of cash, and he was hoping to use that pay for an oil change, but he was sure his car could survive another week. At least he could finally see Oscar, albeit in a public place. Oscar had insisted that they meet at a coffee shop, which meant that Damien had to be careful about what he said and how he said it.

Though he promised Oscar that he would reveal all, he still struggled with the decision to tell him everything so soon. He imagined that he would have eased him into the secret, something he would share with a serious partner. He had hoped Oscar would be that person, but Oscar wasn’t interested. His unfortunate life made him well familiar with disappointment, but time made it a bitterer and bitterer pill to swallow. 

It was a glass-half-full kind of worldview that carried Damien through his toughest moments, and he took some solace in the fact that Oscar was willing to meet with him. Maybe friendship was all Damien could expect in this life and Oscar was a fine friend to have. Damien only had vague acquaintances, so it might be nice to have someone understand (platonically).

Aiming to put his best foot forward, Damien arrived early to scope out the most remote, most private corner in the coffee: a nook that was partially hidden by a folding screen. Fortunately, the other customers and the music made the place noisy, so no one could easily hear about all the things that made Damien abnormal. He texted Oscar that he had arrived and where he was sitting, then he waited with a cup of chamomile tea. He suspected the effects of caffeine hit harder for him than other people, and he wanted his mind to be clear and vigilant.

On cue Oscar came through the entrance and Damien stood up, his chair scraping the floor in loud protest. Their gazes met, but Oscar’s eyes quickly averted toward the counter, ordering his usual drip coffee with extra cream. Damien couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him, slim but sturdy, sharp but sweet. Awkward minutes passed as Damien stood and stared at Oscar, who chose to wait for his drink instead of greeting him.

Finally, Oscar walked up, cupping his coffee like a barrier between them. Before Oscar would happily throw himself into Damien’s chest, but now he looked uncomfortable. Behind the faded scabs on his face, behind the flush that spread across his cheeks, there was turmoil. 

“Hey,” Damien said, voice cautious and even.

“Hi,” Oscar replied, nervously tucking curls behind his ear. Looking up at Damien through his long lashes, he asked, “Aren’t you gonna sit?” 

Damien plunked down into his seat at the question. “Sorry,” he said. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m better,” he said as he took a more measured seat in front of Damien.

“Are you sure? Your face is really red.” Damien leaned forward. “Maybe a fever?” 

“It’s not a fever,” Oscar said with indignation, as if offended. “I’m okay, okay?” He glowered, then faltered, his gaze dropping quickly to his cup. "I can't stay long," he added, but didn't mention how long.

Damien took a deep breath, sensing that Oscar was still scared of him. Even as a friend, Oscar would never look at him the same way again, like he was human. “Okay, Oscar,” he said, strain in his voice. “I’ll try not to take too much of your time.” With a quick, sad smile he added, “It’s really good to see you.”

“Your face looks completely fine,” Oscar said, brushing off Damien’s words and staring at the cheek which Oscar had angrily slapped on their trip. Damien’s newly formed, post-transformation skin had been fragile then, so much that the slap split it like wet paper. Now it was smooth and looked untouched.

“There’s a good place to start,” Damien said. His wounds healed so rapidly that it was easy to forget about them. “It finished healing the day after I dropped you off. Things like that get so itchy though, but even if I scratch it, it doesn’t really scar.”

“But it was so deep,” Oscar replied. “There was so much blood.”

Damien shook his head. “Nope, it’s all good now,” he said, pointing at his cheek. “You can feel if you want.” 

“No, I believe you,” Oscar said, taking a sip and a pointed pause. “So you never scar?” he asked, maybe with a hint of envy. Damien understood why Oscar hated his own disfiguring scars, but wished he didn’t focus on them so much.

“I have before,” Damien said. Their conversation was off to an easy start, though Damien wasn’t sure he could keep things short as promised. “I’m a freak” wasn’t going to be enough for Oscar. “If it’s really bad, I will get scars until, you know, the next month. You know, when...” he trailed off.

“Right, the monthly thing,” Oscar said. Head propped on palm, propped on an elbow, he asked dryly, “Anything you want to say about that?”

Right to the point, Damien thought, tongue twisted. Voice quieter, he asked, “What do you want to know?” 

“Um, everything?” Oscar asked with a raised voice, but he caught himself. In a subdued tone, he leaned forward and hissed, “Like, are there others? Is something going to happen to me? Does anyone else know? Are you--” Oscar paused and whispered, “a _ werewolf _?”

For a few seconds, Damien stared as he digested the line of questioning. A part of him was morbidly tickled at the sight of Oscar uttering ‘werewolf’ like a demonic spell. He licked his lips. “Let me save us some time. Can I use your phone?” he asked with his hand out.

“For what?” Oscar asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“I can’t search on my flip phone,” Damien replied apologetically. 

“Oh right,” Oscar said, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his cheap, but still capable smartphone. Unlocking it, he handed it to Damien. “Tell me again, why don’t you get one of those?” he asked.

“We’ll get to that soon enough,” Damien said, thumbing keywords into the phone’s search bar. He pressed a link to a short article that was more than twenty years old, back when secrets were easier to keep. Then he handed the phone back to Oscar. 

As Oscar skimmed through it, looked at Damien in confusion, and read through it again, Damien recalled the contents of the article. It reported the arrest of disgraced geneticist, Guillaume Dutroux, for the illegal acquisition of human embryos. An investigation into the possible genetic experimentation of the same embryos was also underway, though Dutroux couldn't be charged with something that was only unethical. He was last reported to be under house arrest in an unpublicized, remote location, awaiting trial.

Damien watched Oscar place the phone down. It didn’t seem as though the article clarified anything. “Okay,” Oscar began slowly. “So what does that have to do with you? I mean, it said embryos. You’re not that.”

“But we all start out like that, don’t we?” Damien replied carefully, cryptically, quietly. 

Oscar hesitated and picked up the phone to read through the article for the third time. “But it doesn’t mention --” Oscar started, then stopped. Forgetting his reticence, Oscar looked at him directly, giving Damien a hard look. “You’re kidding,” he blurted, amazement turning his face into a pale yellow.

Being seen so completely was a first for him, and Damien didn’t know what to do except offer a shy, apologetic smile.

  
  


**Ten Years Old**

  
  


_ When he first stepped outside, he recognized that it was nighttime. Snatching his attention, the full moon was more beautiful than the picture books could show, and he stared with wonder before the woman tugged him forward by his arm. _

_ “Come on,” she hissed as she pulled him along on a rocky path toward a car. She shoved him into the backseat, which was already stuffed with boxes that were filled with folders and papers. Tucking a blanket around and over him, she closed the door and slid into the driver’s seat. _

_ Stunned at the flood of stimuli, the boy trembled with fearful excitement. Through the window he drank in the sights of moonlit trees, the inside smell of the purring car, and the sensation of moving faster than he could imagine. His eyes wandered back to the strange, alluring moon. It was white, like the sterile lab coats and bedsheets, but so different. The color was wild, ghostly, powerful. _

_ Otherwise, there wasn’t much to see in the darkness, but even the blackness offered potential, like a shroud that hid mysterious treasures just beyond the boy’s sight. At last they arrived at a house in the middle of a forest. A strong and impatient grip around his wrist, the woman led the boy through the house and into a small room. _

_ She made him sit on the bed, which took up more than half of the space, as she knelt and undid the bandages that were wound around both of his forearms. She clucked with disappointment as the surgical cuts on the boy’s arms did not heal as quickly as hoped, then re-wrapped his arms with fresh bandages. _

_ Laying the boy down, she ordered him to go to sleep, then left the room, turning off the lights and locking the door. Too thrilled to sleep, the boy stared into the dark with wide eyes. What had caused this sudden change? His previous room made it hard to hear anything beyond muffled sounds, but the walls of this new room were much thinner. He could hear a door outside open and close, and noticed with great interest that he could hear conversations more clearly. _

_ “Is he secure?” a man’s voice spoke, which the boy recognized as the doctor’s. _

_ “Yes, he’s in the room,” the woman responded. _

_ “And the boxes? Did you carry them in?” he asked. The boy heard the scrape of a chair against the wood floor and the pop of a bottle opening. _

_ “Yes, but they were extremely heavy,” she said tightly. _

_ “Good, good,” he said, not paying attention to her tone. “We were just in time. Those idiots think they can take over my work, continue what I’ve started. What scientists could they possibly enlist? I’m the goddamn expert! I wrote the book! As if it’s so simple that they could follow it like a cookbook! Hand me the glasses, Nicola. Would you like--? No? Just me then.” _

_ The boy heard something glass and hollow hit a surface with a thunk. With a harsh exhale the man continued, “We shouldn’t have expected better from those military meatheads. They didn’t have the sense to cover their pitiful asses, and now they’re nervous, demanding results without respect for the process.” _

_ “Another glass of whiskey, doctor?” the woman asked, dry and disapproving. _

_ “Bear with me, Nicola,” he said. “It’s been a rough week. It’s good foresight that we kept the documentation for him separate. I’ll play along with them, pretend to do things their way, while you stay here and write the proposals for more funding. ” _

_ “While watching the boy?” she asked with restrained exasperation. “Doctor, we no longer have half the equipment we need for tests, nor the staff. His cuts aren’t healing any faster than a normal human’s. Either the tests have been faulty and we have a normal boy, or the spliced genes have effects that we may never see. In any case, it’s become babysitting, and I did not receive my PHD for such tasks.” _

_ With an annoyed groan the man said, “Nicola, I know this isn’t ideal, but please, you must bear with me.” The boy heard another thunk of glass. _

_ “What am I supposed to do with him? We had to dispose of all of his books and toys at the facility!” she said, raising her voice. “You expect me to play games with him now?” _

_ “There’s a TV, isn’t there?” the man snapped, losing his temper. “If he’s as normal as he seems, then we can make do with that.” The boy heard the chair scrape on the floor again. “I have to go back, otherwise they’ll be suspicious,” he said with a mumble that the boy could barely hear. The door slammed, though the boy couldn’t tell whether the doctor or Nicola had done it. _

_ He could tell from the sound of a hefty kick to one of the boxes that Nicola was still in the house. “I’m not a fucking maid!” she hissed. _

_ True to her word, she never cleaned anything for anyone, despite the orders of the doctor, who eventually found himself framed by the military and under an embarrassing house arrest. That menial job was left to the boy with no discernible skills, smarts, or specialty. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@starbasefive), my usual haunt and best place to reach me. :) Hope you enjoy!


	4. Calamity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW: Child neglect, cutting, domestic abuse]

“This all makes sense now,” Oscar said, hands on his hips. “The mattress shoved into the wall, the three pieces of furniture, the complete lack of decor, it makes sense.” As Oscar surveyed the mess that he had made, where he dug through Damien’s scant belongings like a curious whirlwind, it seemed he’d forgotten that he told Damien that he couldn’t stay long.

They had taken the conversation to Damien’s meager apartment, which Oscar was scrutinizing with renewed interest. Damien spent the last half hour watching him fling open every door, window blinds, and container he could find. There was nothing to find, plus Damien kept precious belongings on his person. He had a feeling that Oscar didn’t quite believe him and was looking for signs of a prank. 

“I thought you were just strapped for cash,” Oscar said. This was a subject Oscar never brought up, but now had no problems addressing. “You’re on the run.” Saying that aloud made Oscar look uneasy and Damien couldn’t help but think that his selfishness brought him here. 

“Why not both?” Damien asked, but the ill-timed joke didn’t lift the mood. 

Oscar frowned at the attempt and asked, “Well, how many people _do_ know about you?”

Back against the front door, Damien couldn’t face at him as he replied, “You’re the first person I’ve told. Outside of you I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Oscar asked. He stood in front of Damien and glared until his face dropped, looking helpless. Oscar inhaled a long breath and sighed, collapsing into the sole chair in the room. Damien followed suit, taking a seat on the mattress, hands clasped between his knees. In no rush to speak, Damien let the situation settle into tense, thick silence until Oscar broke it.

“You know,” Oscar began, his voice a soft rasp, “a part of me thinks you’re playing a mean joke. When I came back home and saw that everything was the same as I left it, I thought it was just a nightmare. Even you look the same.” Oscar pressed a palm into his side. “But I’m different. I have more scars. I had to throw out my bloody clothes. I couldn’t walk right for days.”

Oscar appeared as though he hadn’t had a good rest either and it was Damien’s fault. Though Damien liked to think of them as kindred outcasts, he was delusional. Oscar was human and Damien was not. The desire to bridge the divide wasn’t going to change that fact, and it seemed like wanting Oscar to understand was hurting him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Stop apologizing!” Oscar replied. “I’m here because I’m trying to understand. Either you are the biggest asshole or you’re telling the truth, the most unlikely truth I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not both?” Damien asked with a shaky, miserable smile. He clenched his hands and remembered the surgical incisions that left behind neat, white lines on his arms. “I used to have scars.” 

Memories of his old life surfaced. As a boy he had been so weak and naive. Clenching his fists, he continued, “The first time I transformed, I lost them. It was like shedding an old life, but it erased everything they did to me. Those scars used to remind me of awful times, but at least it meant they were real. I don’t understand what they did to me, or what they wanted to accomplish. It’s easy to forget it happened because I was just a stupid kid then and I don’t have the scars now. Your scars are your truth, Oscar. I’m a little jealous.”

He swallowed, having spoken more than usual. Damien looked up from his closed fists to find Oscar paying rapt attention, his concerned, brown-eyed gaze unwavering. A warm swell filled his heart. He wanted to beg Oscar to stay with him, but instead, he said, “Thank you for letting me share this with you.”

“Scars don’t have to be physical to be real,” Oscar said. “I know a little something about that. It must have been hard to keep quiet for so long, especially alone.” He sniffled, his shoulders drooped and expression downcast. “I should thank you for sharing. Talking about it probably hurts.”

Damien tucked his knees into his chest and rested his mouth between them, trying to hide the small smile behind them. Oscar was so considerate that they could go back and forth being grateful to each other. 

“Not as bad as you think,” Damien said. “Like I said, it was a long time ago. Nowadays,” he began, then continued more quietly, “I’ve been thinking that I could disappear and no one would know I existed, like I was never real. I think that’s what bothers me the most. I don’t get to be remembered.”

He was sure no one would miss him, the real him. Until now, Damien the human was a lie on a lie on another lie. Beneath the handsome man was a lonely, guarded man, under whom there was a monster who liked to pretend he was human. Lying for so long was exhausting and revealing his true self was liberating, but none of it mattered in the end. The man who knew his true self didn’t want him.

Catching himself brooding, Damien shook his head. “But that has nothing to do with you anymore,” he said with a defeated shrug. Oscar was right to break off the relationship. It was unfair for Damien to take away a normal future away from him.

It seemed Damien’s blunt words made Oscar upset. Crossing his arms, he sniffed and stared at the ceiling, trying to keep his tears back. “Of course, we’re still friends though,” Damien said. “I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine. You’re right. I did break up with you,” Oscar said with a crack in his voice, wiping his eyes and burying his nose into his phone. Damien was disappointed that he caused another awkward silence, wondering how he was supposed to avoid them. He watched Oscar thumb through his phone, expecting him to leave at any moment.

“It says the...scientist guy died in a house fire with his assistant,” Oscar said, not even trying to pronounce Guillaume’s name, and Damien realized that he had been looking through the rest of the search results. Directing a suspicious look at him, Oscar asked, “Were you in the house with them?”

“I was,” Damien said carefully. “I didn’t kill them if that’s what you want to know.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it looks bad. It was an accident. I was just trying to escape.”

“Did you escape?” Oscar asked, then blushed at his stupid question. Damien pursed his mouth, trying not to smile since the atmosphere was supposed to be serious, but the gaffe was so adorable. “I mean, obviously you escaped,” Oscar mumbled.

Regaining composure, Damien replied, “Well, I did. I started the fire to distract them. They were so obsessed with saving their research papers and tapes, more than me.” The vision of the doctor and Nicola in the blaze struck him like lightning and all amusement was sapped from his body. His voice distant and hollow, he said, “I didn’t know that videotapes were that flammable.”

Based on his investigation, his biological parents were likely anonymous donors, so the two scientists were the closest to normal parents that he had. He never shed a tear for them, but he was the one who started that fire. He chose to run away instead of helping them.

“They were bad guardians,” Damien said aloud. “They kept me naked in a cage. Still, I didn’t mean for them to die.“ When he said that, it dawned on him that he hadn’t meant Oscar to get hurt either, but it happened anyway. “But it wouldn’t have happened if I did nothing. So I did kill them.”

The ominous words hung in the air and Damien couldn’t help but feel awful. He hadn’t thought of it this way before. To Damien’s surprise, Oscar stood up and took a seat next to him on the mattress, though there was still some distance between them. He watched Oscar pull off his jacket and leather gloves, exposing his scars.

“I don’t tell anyone how I got these, but I’m going to tell you,” he said, holding his hands out in front of him. “When I was a kid, my narcissist dad terrorized me and my mom. Anything we didn’t do perfectly set him off, and he wouldn’t stop yelling and slamming things until we were just as miserable as him. One day my mom did something that really pissed him off -- I don’t remember what. It was never important, but it made him the angriest I’d ever seen.”

“My mom didn’t take his tantrums sitting down. She’d threaten to call the police if he raised a hand against us. I guess he wanted to show she was bluffing, because while he was throwing a fit, he picked up a knife and pointed it at my mom, who was in the kitchen boiling water. She was making mac and cheese for me, so I was with her.”

“I was so scared that he was going to kill her and she was scared that he was going to kill me. So I tried to get in between them and she threw that pot of scalding water at him. Isn’t it funny? He was okay, but I had to be hospitalized for weeks.”

Until this point, Oscar was speaking as if to spit out the facts as quickly as possible, but the emotions caught up to him. He paused, taking slow breaths, but couldn’t stop himself from spilling tears. Damien noticed he was holding his breath while he watched Oscar manage his anger and grief.

“You know what the worst part was?” Oscar asked. “She’d been planning to take me and leave him, but because she had to quit her job to take care of me, she couldn’t. While she washed and rubbed my boiled, dead skin off, I listened to him convince her that she was a terrible mother for letting this happen. That fucking bastard acted like he’d won.”

Oscar looked appalled at himself for crying, even though they both knew he was prone to tears. “She sacrificed so much for me, but she couldn’t stop feeling guilty. The point is, Damien, you have to forgive yourself someday, otherwise it eats you up.”

Damien didn’t want to say that he didn’t feel guilty until this moment. He thought his past actions were justified, but it was Oscar who showed him that there was more than the work, eat, sleep routine: the human part of living and the wide range of emotions that came with it.

“So what happened with your parents?” Damien asked, moved by the story. 

Oscar shrugged and replied, “We managed to leave eventually. She’s better, but she still blames herself. She knows how hard it was for me to grow up like this, but I never held it against her. It was an accident.”

Damien pondered Oscar’s scars, soft, red, and uneven, and his gaze wandered to a dried gash that peeked out from Oscar’s sleeve, a wound from their camping trip. He wondered if Oscar was still angry with him. Oscar had been looking at his phone, which pinged earlier, when he noticed where Damien was staring.

“This is different,” Oscar said, pointing at the scab, “in case you expected me to forgive you. This happened because you lied to me. Or did you already forget?” Oh, Damien thought, Oscar was still pissed.

Hugging his legs closer to him, Damien gave Oscar a timid, confused look because he didn’t know why Oscar was agitated. What did Damien do now? He studied his face for a clue, which seemed to make Oscar more annoyed. Oscar jumped to his feet. 

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “It’s already been too long.”

“But I haven’t finished what I wanted to tell you,” Damien said, scrambling to stand up.

“Another time,” Oscar said, hand on the door handle. His neck and the back of his ears were flushed and his eyes were red and watery.

Careful not to grab Oscar, but standing near his side, Damien said, “I’m sorry for whatever I did.”

“Stop apologizing!” Oscar snapped. “Especially when you didn’t do anything, I mean, when you don’t know what you did wrong. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He admitted to himself that he didn’t know, but it seemed everything he did pissed Oscar off. Before he could ruin their fragile friendship, Damien clamped his mouth shut and watched Oscar walk out.

**Fifteen Years Old**

_When the boy awoke, before his eyes opened, he recognized the sensation of cold metal against his thin, sticky skin. Though he was familiar with this situation, waking up post-transformation was seldom comfortable. The fluorescent lights conspired with his blurry vision so it took longer for him to see his bleak surroundings. His closet of a bedroom was traded for a wired cage meant for chimpanzees, which could be wheeled in and around the house whenever the doctor’s parole officer made a surprise visit._

_His last memory was writhing on the cage floor, begging for more sleeping pills because his body was in terrible pain. He recalled that the doctor ignored his cries and watched his body contort and grow spurts of fur. Then rage took over and he heard gurgling snarls and saw half-formed claws grapple with the cage. The doctor always shot the tranquilizer darts before he could do serious damage though._

_A fresh towel had been placed inside the cage while he was passed out. The doctor stopped giving him clothes, since he tore through the few he did have and the doctor didn’t have funding for more. Draping the towel around his shoulders, the boy noticed the lingering smell of warm iron. The odor came from his bloody, discarded animal furs, which was laid out on the dining table a few feet away. _

_In the final stage of his cycle, his black hide loosened until his beastly form tore through, skinless and vulnerable. Before, the doctor and Nicola obsessed over the shed skin, but now the doctor was passed out on the couch, sleeping with an arm around an empty bottle of whiskey. The boy suspected the doctor hadn’t bothered to examine the remains of his beast form, and Nicola was nowhere to be seen or heard._

_The house arrest had taken a huge toll on the doctor. Though his sentence was a mere year, the legal fees for the trials were costly, and the conviction led to abandonment by the scientific community. It left the doctor a needy shell of his former self. Nicola, who once worshipped the upstart scientist Guillaume Dutroux, felt that the doctor was a drag on her career, full of new, promising projects -- though none as interesting as their male test subject._

_The boy threaded his fingers through the bars to reach for the TV remote. Turning on the only entertainment that he was allowed, he turned up the volume, knowing that the doctor was too drunk to wake up. The transformation back to his human form was exhausting, but he forced himself to continue planning for his escape._

_When they were convinced that he was a normal human boy, his life wasn’t great. They neglected him beyond the necessities and considered him a great disappointment and burden, even when he alone cleaned up the doctor’s booze-soaked vomit and empty bottles. When they discovered they were wrong about him, that his genetic differences were meant to manifest around puberty, the boy was amazed that his life could get worse._

_At first, they were enthusiastic, paying more attention to him than they had in the past few years. The foolish boy thought they might praise him or say anything positive about him, but they patted themselves on the back for something they regarded as a failure years ago. The experiment reborn, they treated him worse because they decided that he wasn’t human after all._

_Had it not been for television, the boy would have lost it. Among the intrusive exams, endless talk of funding, and the heavy responsibility of being ‘their last hope,’ the boy could count on the daytime dramas and commercials with their jingles and problem-solving products. He could sit in front of the TV for hours, watching every minute of each program. He didn’t understand why the doctor and Nicola sneered at normal or why they ever thought he was normal. To him, being normal was full of colorful products and friends and simple problems and romance and family and everything he didn’t have._

_The shows that captured his attention were teen action dramas, where the main characters couldn’t rely on the adults for help. This was around the time the fights between the doctor and Nicola became more vicious. Their earlier excitement turned into uncertainty and conflicting interests. The doctor was obsessed with the idea that a sophisticated presentation would restore his standing. When Nicola bothered to visit, he pestered her for more resources, still treating her like his assistant. Though Nicola was eager to reap the rewards too, his demands tested her patience. Worst of all, as they gathered every minute data point about the boy, they realized they had no idea what made him a success and the embryos in the same test group failures._

_It came to a head when the doctor and Nicola attempted to control the transformed boy, as a last-ditch effort to gain something from their little miracle. They tried to tame the boy beast, despite years of neglect and verbal abuse. When they opened the cage and plied the fully formed beast with raw meat, he reached past it to snatch the doctor’s worn lab coat, ripping a sharp handful off. In a flurry of panic and tranquilizer darts, they managed to subdue the howling beast._

_For the first time they felt like they were involved in something beyond their control and it frightened them. The doctor and Nicola began to look for a way out without mentioning their plans to the other, though the boy often overheard them. He knew he had no place in either of their plans. Television taught him that he had to make his own. So whenever he could, he tore thin strips from his towels and wove them through the bars where the joints were weakest. Using a trick he saw on TV, he twisted the ends of the strips until they were taut and created enough tension to bend the bars. It was a time-consuming process and he had to put the bars back into place so that no one suspected him. _

_Meanwhile, he made a note of the materials around the house, deciding to start a fire as a distraction when it was time to escape. He didn’t want to risk them following him. He was able to hide matchsticks in the few nooks in the cage, plus the boy had seen a TV segment where the guest showed others how to light a match with their teeth. The doctor had watched this too, but he was drunk and scoffed at the reckless idiots._

_Since Nicola had the most freedom of the three, her visits became less frequent. This frustrated the doctor, who became crueler toward the boy the longer they were alone. He would bang on the cage and yell obscenities while the boy looked in silence, biding his time._

_When Nicola did make an appearance -- her last, according to her -- the doctor flew into a rage. While he screamed at her for being a selfish, ungrateful bitch, the boy jumped at the chance to start a fire. The house by then was a total, disappointing mess. Papers and tapes had been strewn around the floors, so it was just a matter of striking a match against the back of his front teeth and lighting the black, tangled tape of a gutted video cassette. _

_Like a line of gunpowder, the fire followed the trail of tape into a box full of cassettes. Then the nearby curtains caught fire and the wallpaper followed soon after. Alarmed by how quickly the flames engulfed the living room, the boy slammed his palms against the weakened cage bars until he broke through. The commotion distracted the doctor and Nicola, who was horrified to find themselves surrounded by fire and to see the naked boy emerge from the broken cage._

_He stood tall for the first time in months and stared at them, who were too shocked to cower. Even the seconds between them were deadly, as the fire spread to the boxes and boxes of data. Without a second thought the boy charged through the burning door, through glowing embers and sharp splinters. Rolling into the gravel driveway, he turned toward the house, which was belching black smoke and bright flames._

_He heard coughing and was amazed to see the figure of the doctor among the billowing clouds of smoke, holding armfuls of papers. He heard them call for him, shouting, “Boy! Boy! Help!”_

_Disgusted that they never gave him a name beyond ‘boy,’ he turned away and hobbled into the woods, limping as far his bare feet could take him, as long as he could keep his eyes open. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@starbasefive), my usual haunt and best place to reach me. :) Hope you enjoy!


	5. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shocking confession.

Damien sat by the fountain, gushing water for a dwindling audience. A sliver of the sun shone over the nearby park, where parents were bundling their children and herding them home for dinner. Some couples too were making their way out, though some stayed under the lamp posts, which lit up one by one. 

Arms crossed, he scanned the park and the sidewalks to see if Oscar was coming. He checked his phone for the time, which showed 7:18 PM, eighteen minutes after Oscar promised to meet him here. After the way Oscar stormed out yesterday, Damien had braced for another long period of no contact, but was surprised to find that Oscar wanted to meet him tonight.

Damien figured Oscar was caught up in work since they were meeting right after his shift. He was dying to know what Oscar wanted to talk to him about. When Oscar called him that morning, he sounded tired and his nose was stuffy, like he had a bad cold, but his only words were that he wanted to talk.

To pass the time he watched people pass him by, until he saw two: a broad-shouldered man in a police officer’s uniform walking next to a shorter man with curly, side-swept hair, wearing gloves and a worn leather jacket. He stood up as they made the turn toward the park.

His empty stomach tightened and twisted, as if preparing to vomit itself at their feet. Was Oscar going to tell him he found another man? The police man was good-looking, had a real career, and was human. Damien had only one of those things going for him. 

Seeing Oscar smile for the officer stung him, more so when Oscar spotted him and the smile faded.

“Hey,” Damien said to Oscar and giving the officer a polite, curt nod.

“Hi Damien,” Oscar said with a timid head tilt, then turned to speak a few sentences in Spanish at the officer, who looked surprised at whatever Oscar said. Though Damien was intrigued to hear Oscar speak Spanish for the first time, the fact that Damien didn’t understand was another disadvantage.

“This him?” the officer asked. 

“Yeah,” Oscar replied, leaving the officer’s side to stand next to Damien, as if he were being taken prisoner by a beast. “Gracias, Officer Ruiz. I’ll be okay from here.”

Damien didn’t know what Oscar had said about him and thought the police officer looked skeptical as Oscar bid him farewell, so he piped up, “Don’t worry, we’re not dating anymore. So you -- uff!”

He earned a swift, bony elbow into his side and felt his arm being tugged away. “Come on, let’s go,” a red-faced Oscar growled under his breath, dragging them into the park. 

When they were out of earshot, Oscar said, “He was just walking me from work. There was an incident at the shelter and we needed police escorts.”

“He was cute though,” Damien blurted, unable to hold back his insecurity.

“Why? Are you interested?” Oscar shot back with a snippy tone. “Since we’re not dating anymore.”

“No, but you might be,” he said, his own tone bordering on sullen. He didn’t expect their conversation to spiral like this. When he didn’t hear a comeback, he glanced at Oscar, who was glaring straight ahead into the twilight. Damien sighed, letting silence take over their walk. This would be easier if he knew once and for all if Oscar hated him. Maybe friendship was impossible.

Damien took a few steps before realizing Oscar had stopped. He turned to find him in tears, face in palms. He rushed to him in a panic. “Oscar, what’s wrong?” Damien asked, bewildered by his crying.

“It’s me,” Oscar blubbered. “I feel so awful.”

Taking his gloved hand, Damien sat them down on a nearby bench. The lamplight above showed that Oscar’s eyes were red and swollen, like he had been crying for a while. He laid a warm hand on Oscar’s knee and said, “Tell me everything, Oscar. I want to know.”

“I’m not used to this,” Oscar said between fluttery gasps. “I’m usually the underdog, the victim, that I don’t know how to deal with being the asshole. You’re being so good to me, and I can’t even be nice back.”

Stunned by his words, Damien revisited his memories for instances where Oscar was a jerk. Not finding any specific times where he was malicious, he waited for Oscar to explain. 

“I’ve been looking for an excuse to write you off as a bad person. It didn’t make sense to me, that our trip could go so wrong. How could the Damien I know let me go through that? But listening to you talk about your background and your condition, you’re a weirdo like me, except you’ve been nothing but kind and patient and apologetic, the same Damien I know.”

“I know it’s my fault that I pushed you into taking me camping. It’s my fault that I ended up with all these wounds. I treated you like it was your fault, when you just wanted to make me happy. You’ve already gone through so much, and I feel like all the bullies that saw me as a freak, that made me earn respect for no reason.”

“At the same time, what about all the shitty things _ I _ went through? You didn’t mean it, but my body was in so much pain when I came home. I was filthy and aching and still bleeding. I get what you’re going through, Damien, but I can’t forget what happened to me. It’s just been this back and forth in my mind, where you’re wrong or I’m wrong. So I’ve been trying to take a step back and understand you, open up to you.”

Oscar looked upward to wipe his tears away and took a deep breath. “You don’t have to tell me everything about your past, but if you’re still willing to talk to me, I’d like to know what it’s like for you, you know, to live with your other side. I want to listen, however long it takes.”

The way Oscar poured his heart out impressed Damien. He tried hard to be a good person. “I’d love to tell you, but if it sounds good to you, I’d like to get out of this cold and make dinner. I never got to do that for you, and I want to do it now, so you know there’s no hard feelings.” Plus, Damien knew an opportunity when he saw one. Maybe a hot, home-cooked meal could set him on the path back to Oscar’s heart.

Oscar wiped his eyes on his shirttail. Nose stuffed up, he asked, “Is my place okay? Since it’s closer.”

“Sure,” Damien said, standing up and holding a hand out for Oscar, who accepted it. “Let’s stop by the grocery store first.”

They walked out of the park side-by-side in shy silence. “So,” Oscar began, “you go camping every month, not for work or for fun.”

“Yes,” Damien replied. “It’s the best way to protect me and other people.”

With a grimace, Oscar said, “I put myself in real danger then, like an idiot.” He licked his lips and changed the subject. Pointing ahead, he mumbled, “We can go over there across the street.”

They walked towards the grocery store, where Damien held the door open for Oscar. “Well, no. I knew it was you, or vaguely aware that it was you,” Damien replied, refocusing their conversation. He wanted to be as open as Oscar was.

“You weren’t chasing me?” Oscar asked, picking up a basket.

“Oh no, the process is so painful, I can barely move.” Damien scanned the aisles for produce. “I take a whole bottle of sleeping pills to deal with it.”

“A whole bottle?” Oscar asked, eyes wide-eyed. He almost ran into a tower of canned beans before Damien caught him. 

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s been working so far. I don’t care to control that side. Too unpredictable.” He reached for a plastic bag, grabbing a few potatoes and trying to remember old Griffin’s recipe.

“And you’ve been doing this for how many years?” Oscar asked, standing right at his elbow. 

“Mmm,” he paused in thought, “about ten?” He handed a small box of rosemary, which Oscar threw into their basket.

“So it’s pretty consistent?” Oscar asked as they moved toward the dairy section. “Your cycles and habits, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Damien said. “I mean, it’s not like a doctor is going to tell me what’s up.” 

“I guess, but still, shouldn’t you see one?” His voice lowered when he asked, “You’re mostly human, right?”

Damien shrugged, reaching for the butter. “I’ve only been told that I’m not.” 

“Wait,” Oscar said, then whispered, “do you even have identification? There’s no way they gave you one.” As they stood in the checkout line, he looked concerned and cautious, as if he was treading on a sensitive topic. 

Damien leaned over and spoke into his ear, “I do, so don’t worry. Someday I’ll tell you about Griffin.” He pulled back, pleased to see Oscar blush. “It’s a good story.”

“I’d like that,” Oscar said, giving a slow smile, the first Damien had seen in weeks. 

The bus ride back was crowded, so Oscar stopped talking about their sensitive topic, instead teasing Damien about his three-ingredient dish and how he understood why Damien loved junk food if he was such a simple cook. Offering only a shrug and a smile, Damien was delighted that they could still exchange rapport like this, like they used to. Before Oscar let them into his apartment, though, he turned his back to the door and faced Damien.

His expression was soft as he bit his bottom lip and looked up at Damien through those insufferable, long lashes. He said, “I...really want to make this work, Damien, if you want to. I just don’t want any more big secrets between us. I promise I’ll work through it with you, if you want to.”

“Oh,” Damien said, looking downcast. He was hoping to keep his feelings hidden. He didn’t want to kill the remains of their relationship -- downgraded to friendship -- but Oscar insisted that being open was the only way to make it work. 

“I know it’s going to make things awkward since we just started being friends again, but I want to make it work too.” Damien looked guilty as he confessed, “You should know that I love you, Oscar.”  
  


**Twenty Years Old**

  
  


_Damien fought to wake up, gasping like his lungs were in a vice. He had another nightmare when he was a frightened child running through an endless forest. He sat up from his makeshift bed on the hardwood floor, looking around his surroundings. _

_The cabin he shared with Griffin seemed to be growing more cramped every time he woke up. The dim light signaled it was dawn and he shivered from the morning cold. His gaze landed on the sick, old man that took him in five years ago. _

_Griffin was sleeping in his bed for one, but his sweat-soaked sheets meant it was a restless slumber. Without getting up, Damien grabbed a clean rag and rinsed it with the bucket of rainwater, which stood near the doorway. Kneeling next to the old man, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, then checked his bandages, wrapped tightly around his sides_

_Damien frowned because blood stains had grown, though Griffin’s wounds had been stitched. All he could do was change his dressings. When he touched Griffin’s shoulder to wake him, he noticed that his skin was cool to the touch. _

_“It’s time for your meds,” Damien said, holding the medicine bottles and cup of water in hand. Plastic and orange, they looked out of place in their ramshackle hut of woodsy brown. He read over the instructions that the emergency room nurse had to write down for him, since he didn’t quite understand the ones on the bottles. But that day was so chaotic and exhausting that he was impressed that he had the sense to ask for help deciphering the cryptic words._

_Griffin’s eyelids squeezed and blinked open, so Damien offered the pills to him, pushing one against the old man’s mouth._

_“I know you’re mad at me, but no need to force,” Griffin croaked. With what strength he had, he lifted his head and let Damien feed him his medicine. After swallowing, he continued, “You can’t blame an old man for trying.”_

_Damien couldn’t help the cold look. Instead of leaving Damien to transform in isolation per their agreement, Griffin had stuck around. Lurking in the deep woods where a monster was roaming, he wanted to be attacked. When Damien returned to his human form, he found Griffin clutching his side, a nasty gash nearly splitting him open. Before he could lose more blood, Damien jumped butt-naked into the truck and drove Griffin to the hospital -- at least an hour away from their remote location_

_“I’m not interested in growing much older,” Griffin said, his breath growing labored. “I’ve lived a good, long life, before I met you, boy.” His eyes glanced at Damien before closing. A chuckle rumbled in his chest._

_“I remember when I found you, alone in the woods and clutching a half-eaten rabbit carcass. Soaking wet you couldn’t have been more than one hundred pounds. After a sight like that, no one could have left you behind. Who would have thought that I picked up a werewolf pup? What a life I’ve had...” _

_Damien bit his tongue, reminding himself that the old man’s injury was his own fault. Griffin was eager to believe that Damien was an honest-to-God werewolf. Though it saved Damien from explaining his real past, in retrospect he should have seen this coming. Being a practical woodsman, Griffin kept Damien for his youthful strength, but the old man was also an eccentric. Unable to accept the feeble journey to death, Griffin decided to try his luck and turn into a werewolf himself._

_“When’s the next full moon?” Griffin asked._

_“Next week,” Damien responded, trying to ignore the bit of hope in his words. Damien was fairly sure that Griffin wouldn’t turn, much less survive the next few days. As predicted by the emergency room doctor, his old body was struggling to heal his wounds, made worse by the severe blood loss. The doctor had pulled Damien aside and noted that the low blood pressure had damaged his heart and brain._

_“Still time then,” the old man said. “Even if I don’t make it, what a way to go! Who else can claim they died by werewolf?”_

_This made Damien crack an unexpected smile. Griffin was a strange old man, foregoing human company for a barbaric life in the deep forest, but his optimism was endearing. If he did live to see the full moon, only to stay human, Griffin would shrug and figure that Damien hadn’t attacked him in the right way. _

_Griffin laid his clammy hand on Damien’s. “Say I did kick the bucket, what would you do?” he asked. _

_Damien shrugged, not wanting to talk about life without Griffin. _

_“I ain’t sentimental, boy,” the old man said. “This relationship of ours is purely transactional, you understand? Don’t pretend we’ve been daisies these past years, just because I’m at death’s doorstep.” He wheezed, throat dry from the talking, and Damien tipped the cup of water to his blue lips. _

_Damien didn’t think Griffin’s evaluation was fair since they had only one major dispute. Griffin was a good provider, but strict and stern. To feed two mouths in the wilderness meant scraping by with less. For the most part, Damien accepted his situation. In fact, he preferred to avoid talking, much less confrontation, but he missed television so much that he brought it up to Griffin once. If Damien suspected that Griffin was off, his reaction to Damien’s request confirmed it. Suggesting the luxury of TV when they had no electricity wasn’t the real sin; it was the fact that Damien wanted to introduce something that allowed the government, his sworn enemy, to track Griffin down._

_“What you need to do is find your own kind,” he said as Damien wiped the dribble from the corner of his mouth._

_“There’s no one like me,” Damien replied. _

_“Not your real pack, though maybe they are out there,” Griffin said, referring to Damien’s fake story about his werewolf pack leaving him behind for his own safety, right before they were all killed off by the government. _

_“I’m talking about freaks, like you and me.” He smiled at the label he gave himself. “Just because they’re not exactly like you doesn’t mean they can’t be your kin. Then again you can always do what I did. You always have this rickety shack.”_

_“What makes you think I’ll leave?” Damien asked. _

_“Right, and I haven’t seen you reading my roadmaps,” Griffin jeered. “I know whenever I’m gone, you’re going to hightail it out of here. My brain tells me I taught you well, but my old man heart needs to remind you about a few things.”_

_“First, don’t you dare leave until you get your birth certificate in the mail. Once you get it, you’ll officially be Damien Diller. I hate to sell you out to the government, but living off the grid is hard for a young man and I won’t force it on you.”_

_“Second, always watch your back. The government is watching and will snatch you up if they knew you were a werewolf. Lord knows they’d love a whole army of you, torturing you and brainwashing you so you can make hell for decent folks. Trust nobody.”_

_“Last, don’t watch TV, don’t eat junk food, and stay at least six feet away from a microwave. That garbage’ll rot your brain and body so the government can give you cancer whenever they want.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@starbasefive), my usual haunt and best place to reach me. :) Hope you enjoy!


	6. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soft, lovey-dovey smut is here.

Damien looked down at the sound of keys hitting the ground with a harsh jingle. Oscar knelt to pick them up, and by the time Damien noticed that his hand was shaking, the keys dropped again. 

“Are you okay?” Damien asked, kneeling down but Oscar shot up, almost clipping his chin. 

“Y-yeah,” Oscar replied before a nervous laugh. “I’m just--” He didn’t bother to finish the thought as he opened the door. “Oh crap, are you okay?” He turned, remembering that he’d nearly smashed his head into Damien’s chin. 

“Yeah,” he replied, waving his hands in front of him to signal he was fine. But as he followed Oscar inside, he was anxious. Oscar had just finished setting boundaries for their new relationship, and he’d trampled all over them. Social skills weren’t something he’d ever get, it seemed. Was it better to keep his confession a secret, even if it went against Oscar’s wishes?

In the first place, it was wrong of Damien to confess love to anybody. Had he remembered who he was, he never would have gotten them into this mess, but it was easy to forget around Oscar. He wanted nothing more than to be with Oscar, who anchored him to this strange world. He was sure that he loved him. Everything that couples did on television, he wanted to do with Oscar, but maybe that wasn’t how it worked. Maybe if he truly loved him, he’d let him go.

“Hey, you know where everything is, so I’m gonna shower real quick,” Oscar said, breaking his thoughts. “I feel kinda gross.”

Damien couldn’t muster the words and instead nodded since he began to panic. Of course, he felt gross. A literal monster just told him that he loved him and he must feel disgusted. Oscar deserved much more than him.

A dull, painful weight hung in his heart as Damien opened the cupboards and pulled out cookware to prepare his agonizingly simple meal. Who was he going to win over with this anyway? There was no candlelight dinner, no wine, no romantic scenery, and no gifts. It wasn’t enough. As soon as he presented Oscar with his lackluster dish, Oscar would know that nothing Damien could give was enough. He peeled the potatoes and began chopping them into hunks, listing every way that he wasn’t what Oscar deserved. The image of the upstanding policeman appeared and he sighed. Resigned to his imaginary fate, he hoped the police officer would treat Oscar well. 

“Oh good, you remember where everything is,” Oscar spoke up. Toweling his hair, he changed into clothes he only wore at home, a cropped tank top and sweatpants.

The clean, damp smell, warmed by gentle body heat, made Damien’s heart race and chest clench. He’d always liked Oscar’s natural scent, but it was particularly alluring after going so long without it. In his daze he heard Oscar talking, catching enough to get the gist of his question. 

“--pizza?” Oscar’s hand was on the freezer handle, waiting for Damien’s response. 

“Yeah, sure. You still have some?” he asked, hoping Oscar didn’t notice that he’d been standing frozen, knife wedged mid-slice into a potato.

“I don’t eat them,” Oscar said with a face. He reached over or rather squeezed his way past Damien to turn the oven on. Damien forgot how tiny Oscar’s kitchen was and how his body felt against his. He caught himself standing still again and hastily cut up the rest of the potatoes.

“Why not just throw them -- ow!” The knife clattered into the sink as Damien gripped his bleeding hand.

Oscar jumped back a foot before rushing toward him. “What happened? Are you okay?” Upon seeing the blood, he ducked out of the kitchen. 

The whole scene flipped a switch for Damien, who, to his surprise, started chuckling, then laughing out loud. He almost asked Oscar if he was okay. “Wait, Oscar,” he said, holding his finger over the sink. “Wait, I’m okay. Watch this.”

Oscar re-emerged with an annoyed look and a first-aid kit in hand. Damien beckoned him over and Oscar, at first suspicious of Damien’s grinning, seemed to remember that he healed quickly. In minutes the wound scabbed over and was growing whiter by the second. 

“What’s so funny?” Oscar asked, looking embarrassed. “Is it because I forgot?” 

“No, it’s not that,” Damien said, wiping his eyes. “How many times a day are we going to ask each other if we’re okay?” It dawned on him that Oscar was being careful with him too, the way he’d been apologizing and thanking him frequently, but he didn’t know why. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Just acknowledge that you’re hurt?” Oscar began to bristle, his face becoming scarlet.

“I don’t know,” Damien said with a shrug. There wasn’t a guide to navigating inhuman-human relationships and his gut feeling wasn’t worth much. “Whatever you do I’ll appreciate. I was happy that you forgot I wasn’t human, even for a second.”

The oven interrupted them, beeping to signal it was pre-heated. Oscar sighed instead of responding and opened the oven door to slide the pizza in. When he remained silent as he set the table, Damien assumed he’d made him unhappy again, so he also kept quiet as he threw the ingredients together in a pan and put the lid on. Arms crossed, he waited in the kitchen, staring at the floor.

“Why,” Oscar began, “do you focus so much on what you aren’t?”

Damien raised his head, taken aback by the question. “'Cause,” he replied after careful consideration, “life would be better if I weren’t like this.” He held his hand out to show the healed cut. “I’ve ruined so much because of me, and I don’t know how to make things better.”

Oscar hovered at the kitchen entrance, arms crossed. “Does it occur to you that you focus so much on the bad, that you don’t see a good thing? When I said I wanted to work it out, I didn’t mean friendship.”

Damien blinked, sensing from Oscar’s tone that he was missing something, and Oscar’s pointed gaze made Damien skim through the past hour. Before he could analyze, with an impatient sigh Oscar asked, “Are you hungry?”

Oh God, what was the right answer? Damien thought. He furrowed his brows as Oscar turned off the oven and the stove. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say “No,” but was interrupted by a tug of his collar and a warm kiss.

Mental bells clanged through his mind, all for different reasons: one for confusion, another for the thrill, and the third for the pleasure of Oscar pressing against him. “Wait, what?” he asked, pulse pounding. “Aren’t you mad at me? Don’t you hate me?”

Oscar punched Damien’s shoulder. “I was mad, but I don’t hate you. I’m not perfect either. This is new for me too.” Fiddling with the ends of Damien’s shirt, he said quietly, “My relationships never got to the serious part, where you work things out and communicate instead of breaking up.”

Then he smirked, but with a hint of insecurity, “But don’t expect things to be the same as before. I let a lot of things slide, but I see you now. You might be hot but you’re not much different than me.”

Though mesmerized by Oscar’s closeness, Damien shook his head. “Not like you at all. You’re normal.”

“I don’t get that, Damien. If you’re human for 365 minus, let’s say, fifteen days, aren’t you mostly human? You’re weird, but you’ve fooled me for months. You bleed red like anyone else. You were born in the same way. What else do you need?”

Damien placed a soft kiss on his perfect lips and hugged him, held him close. “Just you, Oscar.”

“Sweet talk won’t work on me anymore,” Oscar said, pulling away, but not releasing his collar. The angle gave Damien a full, wonderful view of his glistening eyes, the vulnerable way he tilted his head, the beautiful pattern of scars that peeked out from his skimpy shirt. Someday he’d tease Oscar for not believing he was gorgeous, but he didn’t want to waste time when he could plant his lips along his neck. 

When he let himself believe that Oscar shared his feelings, he realized that Oscar was trying to seduce him. It made sense, the easy way Oscar’s crop top, which gave a sly view of his midriff, slipped up and over his head. Oh, but he didn’t want to assume, and Oscar did want more communication.

“Are we boyfriends again?” he asked against his skin. 

Oscar’s face flushed and Damien suspected that these past weeks Oscar hadn’t been as angry as thought. “Cocky now, aren’t you? Now that you know that I --” He stopped himself. ‘Ugh, I have to remember you don’t do subtle.“ It looked like it pained him to admit out loud, “Yeah, we are.” 

“Yeah?” Damien grinned. “Even though you know about me? Even though --” 

“Damien!” Oscar snapped but ground a thigh against his groin. “Do you really want to keep talking?”

He was quick enough to understand that he was supposed to interrupt him with a timely kiss, then sweep Oscar off his feet by hauling him to bed. Though he was delighted by the arms that looped around his neck and pulled him near, Damien decided he could be a little selfish. 

Oscar hadn’t once let Damien touch his newest scars and Damien needed to know what he’d put Oscar through. His eyes roamed his body, taking note of the tiniest cuts and the deep gashes that still had scabs. He had to touch them and feel how risky it was for them to be together. 

He made sure his fingers used feather-light touches as they traced the old wounds on Oscar’s chest and ran down his sides. He recalled the cuts along Oscar’s legs so he slipped a palm under the waistband and in a smooth glide slid his pants off. A soft moan in his ear shook his concentration and at once Damien was aware that Oscar wasn’t wearing any underwear.

He brushed his thumb over every mark on Oscar’s thigh but invading thoughts began to take over, thoughts about how good Oscar’s slim, hard body felt against his, how Oscar’s muscles tensed and softened with every stroke, the smell of his warm breath and the light sweat between his thighs and the clean musk from his hard cock. 

It was hard to sort out what to do first because he wanted to do everything at once, so he asked, hovering his nose over Oscar’s, “What do you --”

Oscar placed his fingertips on his mouth. “If I have to explain everything, it’ll kill the mood.”

Damien was unsatisfied with that answer but liked the way they kissed after and the way Oscar pulled Damien’s shirt off. He just wanted to ask what Oscar wanted, but this was an old habit and Oscar did say things weren’t going to be the same.

Most of all, Damien wanted to prove that he was good boyfriend material, but he felt awful that he couldn’t remember what aroused Oscar besides sex. Oscar was used to taking the lead, but Damien had to make an effort too. When Oscar put a hand on his shoulder, presumably to push him onto his back, Damien grasped his wrist and instead rolled Oscar onto his stomach.

He buried his nose into his nape, inhaling his delicious scent. Pinning down Oscar’s hands, which kept fighting to pull off his pants, he kissed a wet trail down his taut back, while coaxing his hips up. Oscar was shy about his body, and as expected, he huffed impatiently at the lengthy caresses, but Damien needed him to know how much he loved his body too. Damien relished the yelp that followed after a long, hard lick from perineum to hole.

“What are you doing?” Oscar asked in a pitch higher than usual.

“Isn’t this why you took a shower?” Damien responded, fingertips skimming the skin between his thighs. 

“Yeah, but -- nng!” Oscar bit his bottom lip when Damien helped himself to another long, but slower lick, and teased his entrance with the tip of his tongue. Giving him no time for protest, Damien suckled another torturous trail, letting his saliva drip down Oscar’s erection. When he closed his grip around Oscar’s dick and gave it tentative strokes, Oscar let go of a quiet moan and bucked his hips in shallow thrusts. 

Obsessed with his reaction, Damien thrust his tongue in him and proceeded to work slowly, methodically, fucking him with short licks while stroking his slicked cock. Each helpless gasp went straight to his own groin, but he focused on Oscar’s pleasure. His eyes hung onto every shudder he forced through Oscar’s thighs. He hungrily listened to his soft moans become more erratic as his hips sank lower and his legs spread wider.

“I’m close,” Oscar whined as he clenched around Damien’s tongue. Before Oscar could offer to return the favor, Damien quickly pumped his length in his hot, slippery grip and ate him out like it was his last meal.

“Wait,” Oscar protested between long groans and short gasps and twisting hips, but Damien clamped him down so that he had no choice but to endure the incessant rubbing and gentle fucking and wet stroking, inside and out until come shot from his pulsing cock and his back arched as he cried out.

Fumbling to take his own prick out, Damien too was close. It took a few strokes on his own before he came, but it was because he was devouring the sight of Oscar burying his head in his arms to compose himself, his sides expanding and contracting, his dripping hole doing the same. 

Oscar rolled over and sat up just as Damien came into his hand. He gave him a sheepish look as Oscar gave him a disappointed one. 

“I was going to help with that,” Oscar said, his eyes averted in embarrassment. He offered Damien tissues. “To return the favor, since it probably wasn’t as fun for you.”

Damien was disappointed by Oscar’s reaction. Usually, he looked content post-sex, but instead he was tearing up. “Should I not have done that?” he asked, frightened that he’d freaked Oscar out. Then he grunted as Oscar flung his arms around him. Lying on the bed, Damien stared at the ceiling and listened to Oscar sob. 

“You’re so good to me, Damien,” Oscar said with a muffled voice. “No one’s ever tried hard for me. How can I leave you now?” He rubbed his wet face into Damien’s chest. “I’m a fool, but I love you so much.”

The confession knocked the breath out of his lungs and Damien didn’t blink but held Oscar closer. He began to take note of every detail of this precious moment. The warm weight of Oscar nestled against his stomach. The smell of sex in the air, mixed with the scent of their neglected meal. Oscar’s curls brushing against his chin. Their heartbeats slowing down at the same pace, thumping back and forth as if they were calling each other. The swell of happiness once thought impossible.

“I love you too,” he said, wrapping up the memory neatly so that it would come back clear and true. 

**Twenty-Five Years Old**

_The gnawing loneliness coaxed Damien to go prowling for the first time in months. Compared to five years ago, he was careful about where he lurked and who he pursued for company, but to his dismay, the reputation of his reckless past lingered. When he caught someone watching him with a knowing, judgmental look, Damien swiveled his way out of the bar, club, or lounge. _

_When he first moved to the city, starry-eyed and fresh, he’d been so concerned with hiding his secret that it didn’t occur to him to worry about anything else. Plus, people were so nice to him and everything seemed to fall into place. Later he learned it was because he was attractive, but starved as he was of human interaction, the attention was intoxicating and sex was even better._

_He didn’t see a real reason refuse anyone who pursued him, not Warren at the motel reception, Joanna from the bar, Lev from Joanna’s party, Brian (or Brad?) from Lev’s picnic...though he seldom lacked a bed to sleep in, it didn’t occur to him that he’d wrought a long chain of resentment until it was too late._

_Reality crashed on his premature fantasy as punishments cascaded on him. It started when a drunk woman confronted him at a bar, calling him disgusting for sleeping with her when he’d slept with her brother weeks before. She burst into tears when he forgot her name, and the commotion not only banned him from the bar but also kick-started a deluge of rumors about him. _

_He found out in trickles what people said about his sexual habits, his cheap clothing and hickish truck, and his asocial behavior. Blindsided by the callousness of actual humans -- unlike fictional characters -- Damien realized how inexperienced he was with people and their complicated society. Everyone else had their whole lives to learn what he tried to cram in five years. Damien felt like it was all he could do to keep his head up and stay afloat. No wonder Griffin fled civilization._

_Unsure of his place among normal humans, he wasn’t sure if he was better off than five or ten years ago. Until recently he only went outside to scrape a living and spent a lot of time watching TV at home or splurging on the occasional film. Until recently he didn’t believe looking for a companion was worth risking what peace of mind he had left._

_The beauty of the city meant people were always moving in and out and soon he’d find someone who didn’t know about his past. The problem was, once he did run into someone who shot flirty smiles at him, he was quick to shy away. His reputation didn’t bother him anymore, but rather he didn’t feel any fulfillment hooking up with strangers. Night after night he sat alone at bars, drinking soda and speaking to no one. _

_One night he watched a group of friends stream into the back of the bar, which had been decorated with colorful paper chains and balloons. The guest of honor was the last to arrive, his elbow hooked with his boyfriend, Oscar. _

_Surprised, Damien set his glass down and stared across the room. Oscar Molina was his customer from a few weeks ago and the reason that spurred his roaming. At his part-time job at the Outdoors Depot, he had helped Oscar find a present for his boyfriend. Watching Oscar scour the racks for a winter parka, he listened to him explain that his boyfriend didn’t have a proper coat and that he had planned a surprise trip to Boston for his birthday. Oscar splurged on a matching pair of name-brand parkas, but he looked so pleased with himself._

_At the same time, though his smiles were brilliant, they were also a little sad. Damien didn’t understand how someone could look dejected talking about their boyfriend. Oscar kept looking to Damien for validation, that his boyfriend would indeed like his present and that matching jackets were cute. It made Damien wonder how to get someone to care about him like that._

_Damien watched the scene with envy. If he were born normal, maybe he’d have friends and a cute boyfriend to fawn on him for his birthday, whenever that was. Moreover, when Damien compared the cheerful birthday party to the skulking bar patrons, he realized he was in the wrong place to find a serious partner. Bars were fun when you already had friends, not when you were alone. He decided it would be the last time he went bar crawling._

_The birthday boy seemed popular. People were crowding him with well-wishes and handing him small gifts and cards. Damien wasn’t a good judge of physical appearance, but he recognized the longing looks in a few friends, especially one man that stood where Oscar should have been. He scanned the room for Oscar and spotted him walking a tray of shots to the party. Oscar beamed as his boyfriend’s friends each grabbed for one, but that was the high point of Oscar’s night._

_He kept squeezing through the crowd to stand next to his boyfriend, who paid little attention to him. Otherwise, he tried to inject himself into conversations that fizzled when he arrived. They would apologetically point at their drinks, then the bar and leave Oscar alone. When later guests arrived, they gave him their coats, which Oscar hadn’t offered to take, so he unceremoniously dumped them on the designated table. This got him in trouble with one angry-looking woman, who seemed to explain to him the proper way to deal with her fur coat. Oscar looked pissed, but stayed silent and ducked his head in apology, all while his boyfriend hadn’t noticed._

_When it came time for presents, for all of Oscar’s fussing, his gift got him an appreciative kiss on the cheek. Oscar looked as though that small gesture was a grand display of affection. Excitedly pointing at the jacket pocket, Oscar was interrupted when his boyfriend shrieked at whatever he received in an envelope. Throwing arms around the man who had been clinging to him all night, the boyfriend didn’t see Oscar slink out of the bar._

_Downing his drink, Damien stood up and followed him out. He could spot a good opportunity, and if his boyfriend couldn’t, it was all the better for him. Hoping and praying for something in his life to go right, he was happy to swoop in and try to be the boyfriend of Oscar’s dreams, whoever that was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@starbasefive), my usual haunt and best place to reach me. Hope you enjoyed my Halloween couple uwu


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